The girl became aware that her foreman was looking at her with a
wary silent vigilance sinister in its intensity.

"In short, you're like the rest of the people in this section.
You're afraid."

"Now y'u're shoutin', Miss Messiter. I sure am when it comes to
shootin' off my mouth about Bannister."

"And you, Mr. Morgan?"

It struck her that the young puncher waited with a curious
interest for the answer of the foreman.

"Did it look like I was afraid this mawnin', ma'am?" he asked,
with narrowed eyes.

"No, you all seemed brave enough then, when you had him eight to
one."

"I wasn't there," hastily put in McWilliams. "I don't go gunning
for my man without giving him a show."

"I do," retorted Morgan cruelly. "I'd go if we was fifty to one.
We'd 'a' got him, too, if it hadn't been for Miss Messiter. 'Twas
a chance we ain't likely to get again for a year."

"It wasn't your fault you didn't kill him, Mr. Morgan," she said,
looking hard at him. "You may be interested to know that your
last shot missed him only about six inches, and me about four."